Dead Flowers
by Mizu Iruka
Summary: They've attended quite a few funerals, over the years. But this is different. Unseen 'verse.


**Dead Flowers**

_Dead flowers for the torn apart._

_Laid at the grave to heal a broken heart. -Demon Hunter_

* * *

Dean was worried. Strike that, he was very worried.

"You sure—" he began, but wasn't able to finish. What could he say? You sure you want to go to your girlfriend's funeral? You sure you're not gonna freak out and kill me with your cane?

Sam's sightless eyes looked past Dean. He had never told Sam, but the way his eyes were completely white, without irises, without pupils, had always made him uncomfortable.

"I would appreciate it if you came with me," Sam said stiffly.

"Shouldn't even have to ask, man," Dean responded. He shifted so that he was a little closer to his brother. "Suit looks good."

Sam's smile was humorless. "For a Goodwill suit? That's a miracle."

"Yeah." Dean still wasn't sure of their boundaries, and reached out before letting his arm drop down by his side. "Uh, do you want me to do your tie?"

Sam was a statue. "I don't have a tie."

Dean winced at his own mistake. "Hey, man, what do you take me for? I've got a few. I promise, I won't make you wear a pink one." It was probably too early to be joking around, but Dean didn't really know what else to say.

Sam surprised him with a muttered, "you wear pink?"

Dean fished around his bag. "Pink can be manly," he said, rather lamely. "Here." He focused on tying the tie just right. Sam's expression was eerily devoid of motion. Dean gave in to his big brother instincts and brushed Sam's hair away from his white eyes.

"Hey, man. You're gonna be okay, alright?"

Finally, Sam gave him something, leaning slightly into Dean's touch. "It doesn't really feel like it," he whispered.

"I know," Dean said simply, even though he really didn't—he had never had a long-term girlfriend, and for Sam to have Jessica burn up above him . . .

"Did you see her?" Sam whispered, his words startlingly close to Dean's thoughts. "I felt the blood, but I couldn't . . ." Sam's fists were clenched.

Dean choked back the curses he wanted to shout at whatever thing did the deed. "Yeah," he said.

"Was she suffering?" His voice was full of pain.

"She was already gone," Dean lied. From the stiff set of Sam's jaw, he had noticed. "Hey, we better head out before we're late."

He slipped back into the old patterns, grasping Sam's right elbow with his left hand and thrusting the red and white cane into Sam's left.

And to his surprise and relief, Sam didn't shake him off.

* * *

Sam felt hollow inside. Like his insides had been scooped out and there was nothing left.

Dean's presence was there, keeping him steady. Sam tried to respond, to show his brother that he was strong, but everything still felt empty.

"Hey, you still like ice cream?"

Dean was going around on tiptoes around Sam. "Course I do," Sam responded.

"Bowl?" Dean checked.

Sam nodded.

The days slipped by. Dean was researching, checking out the area and such for any signs of the demon while Sam focused on grilling his friends without seeming like he was. Most of his interviews ended up in messy tears, anyway.

"Sam?"

Dean's voice jolted him out of his reflections and Sam pressed a hand to his forehead. He could still vividly remember the heat from the fire and the wet drops of blood. And he could still see Jess burning. Nightmares that had come true, and Sam was just lost and all alone.

"Hey, how 'bout you eat something?"

Well, not completely alone. "Not hungry."

Dean hovered in front of him, and Sam knew his brother was resisting the urge to reach out to him in some way. Three years had put quite a barrier between the two of them.

The least Sam could do was try and breach some of that.

"Dean, do you mind if I . . ." he gestured outwardly with his hands.

"Uh, what?" Dean asked.

Sam winced. "Um, look at you. If you don't mind."

"Sure, Sammy. Just don't poke my eye out, okay?"

Sam wasn't quite ready to smile, yet, but he did manage to relax a little as he reached out.

Three years had changed his brother's face. Stubble made Dean's lower face rough against Sam's hand, and there were lines at the corners of Dean's eyes that hadn't been there before. A small scar at his hairline had Sam frowning, but he finished mapping out his brother's face without comment.

"Still ruggedly handsome, right?" Dean moved one of Sam's hands to his mouth so that Sam could feel his grin.

"Shut up," Sam groaned, flicking his brother's nose.

"Hey, not cool, bitch." Dean slapped Sam's shoulder, and Sam breathed easier at the barrier's destruction.

"Jerk," he shot back.

* * *

"It's been a week," Dean said gently over breakfast. "Sam, I don't think there's anything here. Whatever did this . . . it's not here anymore."

Sam swallowed. "Yeah." He had spent three solid years in California, studying how to become a lawyer. It was time he buried those dreams, along with Jess. "I'd like to go to her grave."

"Sam—" Dean began, but Sam lifted his head.

"Please. I need this."

"I swear, one day that expression on your face will get outlawed," Dean muttered.

Sam rubbed his hands together in nervous habit. "Could we . . . get some flowers?"

"You don't have to ask, little brother," Dean said. There was some kind of sorrow in his voice, probably at the fact that three years had passed and there was a gap the size of the Grand Canyon between them. Not that they had ever been to the Grand Canyon.

"Thanks," Sam whispered, and Dean dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"What type of flowers?" he asked.

Sam bit his lip. "Lilies and gardenias," he murmured. "They were her favorites. She hated roses."

He heard Dean moving for the door and then he hesitated. "Sam, I'm sorry I never got to know her."

Sam was about three seconds away from tears, and only just managed to say a choked, "me too." The door closed behind his brother, and Sam realized suddenly that he only had Dean to live for, now. He just couldn't lose him, too.

* * *

At the grave, Sam held his breath as he brushed his fingers over the tombstone. The indented letters beneath his fingertips, engraved with Jessica's name felt like they burned, and he pulled back.

"I'm sorry, Jess. I should've saved you," he whispered. "I can't even . . . I can't even avenge you properly, but I'll try. I just hope you're at peace. You should be. You deserve heaven." Sam bit his lip to keep in the tears and felt himself crushing the flower stems.

"You always asked about Dean, but I would never tell you. I'm with him, now. He'll help me avenge you, whatever did this. We'll . . ." Sam choked on a sob and bit down on his fist to muffle the noise. No need to bring Dean running. "I'm so sorry." Sam dropped the flowers and got to his feet, the fresh dirt sinking slightly.

"Sammy, you okay?"

"Just go," Sam grunted, feeling his way around the car to the passenger seat.

"You need anything?"

Sam shook his head.

"Well, when you do, I'm here." Dean's voice was strong.

"Thanks, Dean," Sam whispered, but Jessica's burning image was mocking him, and nothing his brother could do would change that.

* * *

**A/N:** Whew, Unseen is a difficult fic to write as a whole. Not sure why, but each segment it's a twist, trying to find out how to make the episodes work without Sam being able to see and try and not contradict myself. Things like this are easier, since it's just the between parts, but wow, Bloodlust is killing me. (BTW Bloodlust might not be next. Don't get your hopes up too much, it's going slow)


End file.
